Ark (Published Novel) - Vol 15 Chapter 8

Ryoho Kyohiko transmigrated to Konoha.Good news, he awakened a system.Bad news, it's the “Hokage System,” which means he gets stronger by governing and expanding the village, but the problem is—He's not the Hokage!To grow stronger, Kyohiko has no choice but to climb step by step to the position of Hokage.“Kyohiko, your strategy is too radical; we must be wary of the Uchiha clan for now.”“Enough, Hiruzen, I am the Hokage!”“???”---

In a universe where the memory of Wisps has faded, one of these elusive beings finds itself amidst human society two billion years in the future. But what exactly is a Wisp? No one knows anymore. Join this whimsical and unconventional Wisp on a hilarious journey as it navigates an unfamiliar world, seeking its place and rediscovering what it means to be a Wisp.

This is the stories of two different people from two different worlds (literally)

She was raised in love, while he was raised in hate

Her birth was celebrated, while he was despised

She was protected, while he was abused everyday.

She is gentle, warm and kind, while he is cold, cruel and vicious

But with the twist of fate, their world collided. They will learn from each other.

He will teach her to be hopeful and live for herself, while she will teach him the joys of Friendship and Love

Together they will learn to understand each other, accept each other and love each other, and soon their love will change the fate of the world

Princess: Can you stop staring at me while I'm sleeping?

The Lord: I can't…

The Princess: Are you gonna stare at me the whole night?

The Lord: Yes!

The Princess: Can you at least act like a normal man who will take advantage of a maiden while in her room.

The Lord: …this Lord would oblige

The Princess: WAIT… This princess is kidding, just kidding, wait…!

“Villains aren’t born, they’re made...blah...blah...”Cute quote. Stick it on your Tumblr header next to your anime pfp.You boys love your villain stories, don’t you?You want carnage. Chaos. Control. You want a dark throne, a cold smirk, and a woman kneeling at your feet begging for mercy.But you?You don’t want to lift a damn finger.You’ll cheer for the villain as he kills a god, but cry when he gets betrayed.You call it “plot armor” when the hero survives—but call it “art” when the villain does the impossible.You’re not fans of villains.You’re fetishists.You want the violence, but not the silence after it.You want domination, but not the burden of being hated.You want power, but only if the story forgives you for it.You don’t read these stories to understand evil.You read them because you think you're too good to win the normal way.“Villains don’t play fair.”Exactly. That’s why you love them.Because you wouldn’t last a day in a world where strength mattered and excuses didn’t.You don’t want a villain’s life.You want his results.You want to watch him burn the world for a woman.But you’d cry if a girl left you on read.So tell me—What exactly are you rooting for?At least unlike you, I support heroes—the ones with boobs.You know the type.Tits squeezed into latex, thighs tight in spandex, preaching virtue with cum-drunk eyes the moment they fall into my arms but always end up screaming my name instead.She flies above cities, saving lives like it’s her job.But at night? She crashes into my arms, trembling, moaning, clawing at my back like I’m the only real thing she’s ever touched.Her cape drops before her guard does.But I don't need to tear it off.She hands it over herself—bit by bit, kiss by kiss, lie by beautiful lie.You ever felt a heroine's breath hitch in your ear as she begs you to stop pretending you're the bad guy?Ever watched the symbol of hope ride you like you're the last man left after the world ended?That's not conquest.That’s devotion, baby.Unfiltered. Undeniable.And the irony?They fall the hardest.Because no villain ever tried to understand them. No hero ever dared to see past the shine and into the ache beneath.But I do.I whisper into the cracks of their perfection.I plant kisses where they hide their pain.I fuck them where they forget to wear their strength.And when they break—when their moans turn to prayers, when their strength melts into submission—That’s when I rise.I’m not just some brooding misfit out for revenge, or a misunderstood loner sitting around hoping for a shot at redemption.I’m not a villain.I’m the SUPERVILLAIN—the kind your heroines moan for when the cameras are off and the capes are crumpled on my floor.